


empty

by gabrielleholland



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post Season 7, R Plus L Equals J, Slow Burn, angst with fluff, consistent chapter lengths? i don’t know her, deals with war-beyond-the-wall, i guess?, it’s in lowercase because that’s my a e s t h e t i c, meera is underrated, mentions of the cersei/southern war, no smut no siree, sansa doesn’t need a man, show only but references to the books, three-eyed-raven is lowkey a cockblock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-05-25 17:23:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 19,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14981948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabrielleholland/pseuds/gabrielleholland
Summary: i loved youas i dragged you over a frozen hellas i died a thousand times overas i sacrificed all of my beingall for you to tell meyou didn't need methis is absolute hot trash don’t say i didn’t warn you





	1. ravens

meera sat at the dinner table, alone. as the lady of greywater watch, she should be sitting at the head but she couldn't. that was her father's place. a father now dead. she could almost see his hand intertwined with her mother's. a mother now dead. she wanted desperately to turn to her right and see jojen, the little brother she'd protected with her life. the little brother now dead.

 

she was alone, now more than ever.

 

she cursed the war that had caused all of this. she cursed every king and queen she could think of. she cursed cersei, she cursed daenerys, she cursed the white walkers, she cursed the realm. her family had been swallowed by all this tragedy.

 

howland had perished while taking back the twins from the lannister forces. they said her father fought bravely, that to his dying breath he had been valiant, proud and honourable. this information didn't help meera's mother however, as the day after the news came she had hung herself with bed sheets. meera hoped her parents and jojen were together again. she hoped they were watching over her, making she she made the right decisions.

 

she was the lady of greywater watch now. the ruler of the neck. behind her back, they called her the swamp queen. the war of the three queens, the smallfolk were calling it. cersei lannister, the mad queen;sansa, the queen in the north; daenerys, the dragon queen. it was a cruel joke. meera, the swamp queen.

 

she didn't feel like a queen, but she did feel she was wading through swamps filled with agony and pain and suffering. of memories, of lives once lived, of choices that could have been made.

 

she wasn't a little girl anymore. she wasn't the little girl who cared for her brother and went on adventures. she was the woman who watched her brother die who had aided in bran stark's quest to become the three-eyed-raven against the undead and the living. in meera's eyes, they were as dangerous as each other.

 

bran stark. the name made her want to throw a chair across the empty room.there were times when she would look over her shoulder and catch a glimpse of black raven's wings. she would sometimes see him in her dreams. sometimes as himself, sometimes as a bird. that was wrong. he was the bird. he wasn't bran stark anymore.

 

she ignored him. she sent arrows through his projections in her dreams. she'd scream at him to leave. he never fought back. he never tried to talk to her. he simply turned and left, leaving her empty and alone. it hurt more that he did nothing rather than him refusing. she wanted him to talk to her, to apologise, to even acknowledge what she and jojen had sacrificed for him. for years they'd been on the run. years. did that mean nothing to him? did he care? probably not. no, definitely not.

 

"my lady." bowed lord fenn.

 

she picked at her food before answering. "yes?"

 

"a raven arrived at fennforte from winterfell. it was adressed to you and greywater watch." she held out her hand, and he placed the rolled-up parchment in her palm. exhilaration shot through her body like lightning. she wondered if bran's slim fingers had trailed this parchment the same as she did now.

 

_to lady meera reed of greywater watch and the neck_

_winterfell urgently requires your assistance in matters regarding lord brandon stark._

_lady sansa stark of winterfell_


	2. crossroads

   meera gasped for breath as her mind awoke. she stood at the intersection of four roads. meera always knew whether or not she was dreaming. there was a certain ethereal quality to dreams. this time, she wasn't sure.

   one of the roads led to home. not greywater watch as it stood now, but her home. a home that held her father and mother and jojen. a home long gone. a home she longed to run towards. instead, she turned to the next road.

   it was greywater watch, again, except this wasn't long gone. her mother and father and jojen were not in this castle. although the castle was filled with people, it felt empty. she could see through one of the windows. her eyes focused on an elderly woman, sitting alone at a dining table. she did not touch the food or mead in front of her, instead her fingers were tapping rhythmically. it was a tune she remembered. an old funeral march, one sang by crannogmen when a nobleman or noblewoman died. this woman had long graying hair that fell down to her waist. she was emaciated, with hollow cheeks and eyes.

   the third led to a castle she didn't recognise. she could see a man and a woman standing by the window. the woman had curly brown hair that fell past her shoulders. she wore a white-coloured dress that the man was inching down her body. meera blushed as the dress fell past the woman's shoulders. she knew what direction that was going so she turned hastily to road four, the last.

   the forth was a castle she knew. winterfell. it was snowing lightly, the white flakes settling on the torrents like icing on a cake. her heart stopped when she saw what was inside one of its many rooms. bran. her bran, her prince. he sat glassy eyed on a wheeled chair. he was reaching out to something she couldn't see, a shadow shrouded in darkness, drenched in void. his face looked so pained, so conflicted, as if his mind and soul were being stretched thin by a ruthless and vengeful god. she waited to scream out, beg for him to tell her what was causing him such agony.

   "m-meera" stuttered a broken, haphazard voice. she spun around.

   "who are you?" she cried, trying to disguise her shaking voice with strength.

   "m-meera...help...i..." the voice triggered something in her brain. she knew this voice, she just couldn't place it.

   "who are you?!" she repeated, louder this time. a figure flashed in front of her, flickering like a flame.

   "m-m-meera...i'm...need...you...help...me..." the image flipped between a human, a raven, a direwolf, a weirwood tree and a dozen other manifestations her eyes couldn't catch. she ran to it, trying to grasp at the figure. it was like trying to hold onto fog. the image came into focus, and she nearly cried. it was her bran, his sunken eyes grey and empty. he was trying to tell her something, trying to reach his hand out to her from what looked like the three-eyed-raven's tree.

   "bran!" she screamed. he image became clearer, and she saw how his body was broken. it looked to be made of ice, shattering into a hundred million pieces. she could hear a wolf howling and a raven croaking in pain.

   "meera...my...m-meera...joj...hode...sum...i'm...my...you...me..." he finally shattered, the splintered ice falling to the ground.

 

   she woke up screaming, her face stained with tears. she screamed into her quilt, the image of bran everywhere. she could feel the shards deep inside of her, slicing into her body, mind, heart and soul. she cried into her pillow as the moonlight shone though the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> be prepared for short chapters
> 
> :)


	3. the winged wolf

as she rode through the gates of winterfell, lady sansa immediately grasped her arm. "lady reed. it's bran. there's something wrong with him. it's been two weeks and he's just lying in bed. his eyes are all grey and the maester says he might stuck in a vision or as a warg and we don't know if he'll live or if he'll be alright when he comes out."

with every word sansa uttered, meera grew more and more and more anxious. a few hours outside of your body was bad, but weeks? he may as well be dead. not that he wasn't already essentially so. meera searched her surroundings desperately, her eyes grasping grasping for bran.

"i'm so sorry to pull you from the neck so cryptically, i understand you're still in mourning over the deaths of your parents. i just...i don't understand bran. i don't know how to fix him." meera was close to tears now. her bran was gone. it seemed everytime she heard his name, this fact was hammered down further into her brain. "he's just through here-" meera didn't bother waiting for sansa. she ran towards his room and burst through the door.

the maester sat beside him, a hand on bran's forehead. "my ladies. lord stark's temperature is colder than yesterday, but nothing appears worse." he stood and bowed before leaving the room. meera ignored him. in that moment, there was no one but her and her prince. he lay seemingly lifeless on his bed, his eyes open and grey. she ran to his side, the tears finally breaching the defences.

"i'm so sorry bran. i shouldn't have listened to you. i should have stayed. i shouldn't have pushed you away when you came for me." she grabbed his face with her hands. he was ice cold, but she didn't care. she embraced his hollow body, crying into his shoulder. she remembered that sansa was still in the room and regained her composure. "he needs warmth. cloaks, hot water, quilts, anything you have." sansa nodded and rushed off, evidently wanting to give meera time alone.

she turned back to her winged wolf. though he would never walk, he would fly. she pulled him towards her again, holding him tight. she rocked back and forth as she felt herself breaking apart. "bran, you need to wake up. get up, please. i'm sorry for everything. i need you bran. please." she couldn't let go of his body. she didn't even know what she was saying anymore, her thoughts bled from her mouth unfiltered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #meeraisunderrated #justice4meera


	4. cold

meera knelt by the side of the bed, holding bran's frigid hand in her's. she'd sat in that position for at least an hour, her eyes trained on his empty face. her mind was beginning to play tricks on her. every few minutes she'd feel a twitch in his fingers and see his brown eyes return, before her world would crumble as they disappeared. sansa walked in, almost hesitant, as if she were approaching a wild animal.

"lady reed, i've had a room made up a room for you. i'll take you-"

   she turned her head towards the red-haired girl somewhat unwillingly. "no. thank you, but no. i...i need to stay here." 

   sansa nodded. "i'll have someone send a bed and refreshments up." sansa hadn't seen bran since he was a boy. she hadn't watched him grow up, but meera. there was a bond between them she knew nothing could ever break. 

 

   she didn't sleep that night, instead laying on the thin mattress on her side, her concentration focused solely on bran. she wondered if this was how lady catelyn had felt when bran had fallen from the tower. had she too waited with desperation and anxiety for bran to wake? had she too felt as if she'd swap places with him in an instant? had she too been willing to do absolutely anything for him?

   she reached out for his hand. it was cold, as if made of ice. for a split second she thought he must be dead, and her heart dropped like a tonne of bricks. she checked his pulse, placing her ear by his chest. his heart beat fairly, enough to keep him alive.

   barely.

   she raced to the fireplace, desperate to warm the freezing stone room. she stoked the dying flames, making sure their heat reached bran. the poker grew hot, and she could feel her fingers beginning to burn. she didn't care though. she needed to keep this fire burning. she'd pledged her life to bring bran to the three-eyed-raven. she'd trusted jojen with all her heart, and to his dying breaths he'd believed in bran. it was her duty to jojen to keep bran alive. it was her duty to hodor and summer and the children too. it was her duty to bran. it was her duty to herself.

   if bran died, it would have all been for nothing. all of them, jojen and hodor and summer and the children and even osha and rickon...they'd have died for nothing. their lives would be nothing but faint memories, forgotten as those who remembered them perished. 

   she returned to the thin mattress. she couldn't sleep, no matter how hard she tried. she considered going to the maester and asking for some milk of the poppy, but she didn't want to leave bran alone. she got up from the bead and climbed in beside bran. it was warmer now. she wasn't sure whether the warmth came from the fire or her heart, but it kept her from turning to ice. she touched his cheek, her fingers trailing his soft skin. he didn't look like bran. he was thin and taunt, grey and mature. he wasn't the little boy he'd once been. meera tried to tell herself that, but she couldn't. he would always be her bran, no matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly book meera is so underrated? she’s so genuinely kind and tries to keep bran happy and his lil crush on her is so adorable and really shows how all these (younger) characters are just innocent kids thrown into situations that most adults couldn’t handle.
> 
> i’m a fan of jojen paste theory (see below for links) but i hope to god meera doesn’t become paste as well. i feel like she’s got more to show. jojen¡s got his green dreams etc and i feel like jojen paste is a satisfying, if sad, end to his character but it would feel odd if meera gets the same treatment.
> 
> youtube video by alt shift x:  
> https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=EhtbVpc8E70
> 
> r/asoiaf subreddit thread:   
> https://www.reddit.com/r/asoiaf/comments/1kxijq/spoilers_all_jojen_paste_revisited_why_it_might/
> 
> forum of ice and fire thread:   
> https://asoiaf.westeros.org/index.php?/topic/137406-jojen-paste/


	5. stuck

   
  "lady meera?" asked sansa hesitantly. meera was only half-asleep, but she sat up with a start. she was still in bran's bed, and her eyes immediately turned to him. he was still asleep, his eyes still rolled back. 

   she turned to sansa. "lady stark. i...i just..." needed to be close to him because i couldn't sleep without imagining him dead. "do you need something of me?" she pulled herself from the bed, slipping on the thick robe sansa had provided.

"her grace and jon have arrived from white harbour. they've invited you to the small council meeting." meera nodded. this wasn't right. she was just a young girl, not a woman with political prowess . her father or mother should be doing this. she didn't want to go to the council meeting. she didn't care what happened to westeros. she cared only for bran. if he didn't wake up, nothing would have mattered and nothing would ever matter. 

she didn't end up going.

 

   there was a feast in honour of the dragon queen and her arrival in winterfell. she could hear it from bran's room. it was a surprise, but the north knew how to have fun. she could hear the dothraki screamers yelling and shouting. not all the dothraki were in winterfell, thank the gods, but the few dozen that were had voices that echoed through the entirety of the north.

   lady sansa sent a few servant girls to bring her a goblet and a few plates of food. pork, mutton, venison, rabbit, beef, fish, a great many breads and cheeses, carrots and potatoes and leafy greens. 

   perhaps sansa had been trying to pull her from bran's room so she could join the celebrations. it didn't work. nothing could pull her from bran's side. he was still alive, though in what condition?

   she ate the food though, and tried to feed some to bran. she remembered how he used to talk with so vividly about the foods of winterfell. she remembered how much she'd missed hearty food when they'd gone beyond the wall. she was used to odd food. she was a reed of the neck after all, they were known as frog-eaters. the young prince... she'd felt bad for bran.

   but he wasn't that boy anymore. he wasn't the boy who could talk of food as if it were rhaegar's rubies. he was a man meera didn't know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m like 40% sure breera will happen in the show, or at least be hinted at but idkin the books. bran's like ~11 and meera's 17 so unless there’s some major time jumps or something (or mysterious three-eyed-crow tree magic that ages him up???) i doubt anything will happen besides bran's crush.
> 
> -gaby.


	6. the old and the new

 

"lady meera." the king in the north had a gruff voice, though it was somehow still calming and comforting. "your father was a brave man."

 

   "he was." she could muster no other words. the king in the north and the dragon queen stood together at the door. she sat up from her thin makeshift bed, suddenly feeling the part of a stranger. jon walked over to his brother. bran was his brother, no matter who jon's mother had been. she felt she was an intruder, so she bowed her head and stepped out. the cold bit and nipped her, though she felt some comfort in it. the dragon queen stepped out and closed the door.

 

   "meera of house reed of greywater watch, daughter of howland reed and lady of the neck. am i correct?" meera merely nodded. "i am trying to memorise the lords and ladies of all the houses of westeros. it is proving to be a difficult task."

 

   meera could not hold her tongue. "especially since you're killing them all." as soon as she said it, she knew she shouldn't have. it was treason to speak with such a tone and with such words to a queen.

 

   daenerys turned to her. "i am sorry for your father. it was not my intention for him to be caught in the crossfire." was that a cruel joke? it was she who had ordered the battle at the twins. meera understood that daenerys needed to bring her southern armies up north, but meera felt a cold bitterness when it came to the targaryen.

 

   "i'm sorry my la....your grace. i spoke out of turn."

 

   "it's alright. i'd prefer if all would speak out of turn rather than hide behind their silver-tongued lies. it would be much easier to weasel out the enemies." meera didn't know what to say to that. she agreed, but she felt as if these words from the woman's mouth were hypocritical. she bowed before heading towards the godswood.

 

she felt as if ants were crawling across her skin. she felt dirty. in greywater watch, courtly curtesies weren't so restrictive. sure, it was expected that you bowed and curtsied and didn't use vulgar profanity but it was nothing like the courtesies here. the crannogmen were close knit.

 

   her reflection stared back at her. the water was freezing over, but she dipped her fingers in. they grew numb, but she gave no care. she'd been numb for years. she didn't recognise her reflection. her hair was too long, her skin too pale, her joyful smile not even present. what had she become? she looked like her mother. she looked like a lady.

 

   she pulled her fingers from the frigid, biting lake sharply. she felt as if he blood were freezing in her veins, weighing her down with ice. she turned to the weirwood and knelt as so many had done before her. she prayed. no, she begged. she pleaded. she bargained. she wanted warmth. she wanted her family. she wanted her home. she wanted bran. she wanted life. _there is a difference between need and want, meera._ her father's words circled her, floating through her mind. to her, these words were interchangeable. she held her hand out, her finger trailing the wizened tree bark. she closed her eyes and cried out to any god who would listen.

 

   _please. i have prayed all my life for your guidance. i sacrificed everything. jojen sacrificed everything. my father, my mother...we sacrificed everything. i ask this one thing of you. my bran...please._

 

   and they replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jon/meera is my crackship and y’all will never make me budge from it


	7. Chapter 7

one word. just one word. if she hadn't been so close to the tree she wouldn't have heard it. the words cling to her like perfume. she drowned in them, her lungs filling with a single word.

meera.

 

it was him. she could hear every intricacy of voice and tone. she knew if someone where beside her they'd call her crazy. she was just hearing things, she was sick with grief. she was, but she knew better. this was old magic. she held her fingers to the tree and trailed the dried blood-red sap. she lay her forehead against the tree and took a breath. she stood up quickly. he was calling for her. he needed her.

she pushed past the lowborn and highborn alike, accidentally pushing jon into a wall. she cried out her apologies, not turning back. she needed to reach him. she flung open the door, panting, her face stained with salty tears. her heart sank and her veins froze. he lay just as he did before. sansa sat beside him, her hand in his.

meera was going crazy, that was for sure. she sat herself on her makeshift bed and tried to wipe away her tears without sansa noticing, but meera knew sansa saw. she was somehow alright with that. she clasped his hand, intertwining their fingers. he was so thin now. his cheeks were hollow, his hair thinning, his bones near visible. he looks a thousand years older than he should be. she remembered how they called him the young prince of winterfell. that had been so long ago. she could barely recall what the north had been like when robb stark was king. now jon snow was king , daenerys targaryen was queen, bran was the three-eyed-raven and meera was alone.

"i'm sorry." whispered sansa. they both knew what she meant. 

"it's fine." her voice cracked, betraying her words.

"no, you're not. that's not your fault. i...i'm just sorry." she took a breath before standing up. "i'll send dinner up for you." meera nodded before turning back to bran. she felt a shock of cold as the door opened. it stayed even after it closed. winter held no mercy. 

she reached to touch his face. his cheek was cold as ice and she felt a tear fall. his lips were cracked and frozen. his eyelashes felt as if they were icicles. she leans down and kissed his forehead before standing up to leave for the godswood.

"meera." breathed bran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> meera-is-a-targaryen is one of my favourite tinfoil theories tbh. it’ll never happen but i love it.
> 
> links:
> 
> r/asoiaf subreddit thread:  
> https://www.reddit.com/r/asoiaf/comments/1e361x/spoilers_all_meera_reed_more_than_meets_the_eyes/


	8. the screams of silence

she didn't move. she couldn't move. she heard him move, yet it didn't feel real. this felt like a dream. no doubt she would wake up to see his stolid body as deathly as before.

   "meera." he repeated, as if she were a frightened deer. her heart dropped at his tone, it felt just as apathetic as before, but she didn't care.

she raced to him and wrapped her arms around him. she gripped him so tight she feared he may suffocate. she felt somewhat guilty saying she was indifferent. he was alive, he was back, he was with her. he seemed shocked at her intense expression of affection. he returned it however, just as forcefully as she, his frail arms holding her fiercely. she began to cry and she sobbed into his shoulder. she didn't know why, he was alive after all.

a servent girl walked in holding a platter of stew. meera felt her face grow red at the prospect of this stranger seeing such a personal, intimate moment. she quickly disentangled herself. "please fetch lady sansa and maester wolkan. tell them lord bran is awake." the girl nodded before leaving tickle. meera grabbed the stew the girl had left on the table and brought it to bran.

   "you need to eat." she said simply, holding up a spoon. he shook his head and she winced as she saw the bones in his neck. his skin was so paper thin. he looked alike to a dead man.

   "no, you eat. i'll wait till wolkan arrives." he sounded so apathetic, so unlike the bran she thought she knew. "i saw the three-eyed-raven." 

   the name conjured up the image of a wild, reckless storm and left a bad taste in meera's mouth. "oh. again?" this felt so wrong. why was everything so stilted?

   "he pulled me into the cave-" he was interrupted by sansa and arya flying towards him, wolkan close behind. the two sisters embraced their brother. meera wished she could experience the arms of her family like they could. she waited patiently as the sisters and the maester checked him up. he was fine, said the maester, though he will need some medicines and we must monitor what he eats. meera was sure sansa and arya would have stayed forever if they could, but duty calls. arya and sansa were sped off for lord knows what.

   again, they were alone. meera didn't quite know what to say. until she did. "i hate you." he turned away, though she couldn't decipher why.

   "i know."

   "you're not my bran anymore. you're...a dead man."

   "i know."

   "but you need me." he seemed a little caught off guard. he turned back to her.

   "i do." she reeled back. she hadn't expected that. she didn't know what she'd expected, really. "meera...i'm sorry." he reached for her hand but she pulled away.

   "this is a joke. a trick. you're not-"

   "i am. i'm sorry, meera. i've...i've....seen. i've seen." she grew angry all of a sudden. his words didn't reach his eyes. she felt like a checkbox on an agenda, a problem to be brushed aside for more important matters.

"i've seen too, bran. i've seen more than anyone should. we loved you bran. all of us. osha loved you, rickon loved you. hodor loved you, summer loved you, jojen loved you. i loved you, bran. i loved you. as i dragged you over that...that frozen hell. as they all died. as i died, a thousand times over. as osha and rickon sacrificed, as hodor and summer sacrificed, as jojen....as jojen sacrificed. as i sacrificed all of my being, bran. all for you to tell me you didn't need me." she grabbed his hand and pulled his face towards her. "do you understand me, bran? you were our prince. you were our life, bran. we...we all died. only for you to die with us." she let go of him and began to cry. fat tears rolled down her cheeks. they tasted like salt, like sadness, like serenity. she gripped herself, tried to pull herself back together, only for it too all fall apart. 

bran hugged her.

she didn't question it. she didn't rationalise or fall into paranoia. she accepted his embrace, crying into his shoulder as she silenced her screams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love ellie kendrick thanks for listening to this p.s.a


	9. cracks in the mirror

   meera slept in the room sansa had originally made for her. no matter how much she built up the fireplace, a chill surrounded her. the room was small and square, maybe 12 feet. there was a rich featherbed but seemed to tell meera she wasn't worthy of it. how silly, she told herself, i am going crazy. in the corner by the bed there was small table and at the other side of the room was a vanity. she began folding her clothes into the drawers of the vanity. it was cathartic, neatly folding away her problems. her mother had always taught her children to be resourceful and not to rely on servants. 

   she sat down on the vanity chair and stared into the mirror. it had a long crack running through it, cutting her face diagonally through the middle. meera had never been a great beauty; she was no cersei lannister, no daenerys targaryen, no sansa stark. she was homely. not ugly, just normal. she'd need had time to worry about her appearance. for the first fifteen years of her life, she'd been pre-occupied with protecting her brother from himself. most girls that age (though not all, of course) preferred sewing, dancing, and handsome princes and knights. meera had grown up amongst boys and girls like her. she'd grown up on spears and bows and arrows. she'd been interested in boys, even kissed them, but it had never been a focal point of her life. 

   and then came bran. for the next four years of her life she'd been on the run, spending her days worrying about the slightly more important matters like survival. there were five of them once osha and rickon had left, which meant five mouths to feed, five bodies to keep warm and sheltered and five lives she needed to make sure weren't lost. and then she'd done just that. they were gone, forever. she would never be able to say sorry, to give them one last hug.

   now though, as she looked in the mirror, she couldn't help but compare herself. she was nine-and-ten now, and no longer had anyone to protect. bran had a castle of loyal guards and jojen had died at her own hand. she was a woman now. she'd flowered while on the run, and she remembered the experience vividly.

she'd began to scream, immediately thinking she'd been stabbed in the night. osha had been with them at the time, and she slammed her hand over meera's mouth. "will ya shut up?!" she seemed to be able to yell even when whispering. she'd seen meera's distress, and had helped her. meera and the wildling had never really gotten along, but in that moment she felt as if osha were her mother.

and now she was dead.

meera wished she herself were dead. she would gladly give up her life if it meant jojen and hodor and osha and rickon and summer could come back. she hated being the last one alive. she was alone, left to die with these thoughts. she stared into her eyes, this monster of a person. she shouldn't be alive. before she could take back control of the situation, her fist shattered the mirror. she began to scream, begging the gods to take her. she didn't want to think anymore, she didn't want to live anymore, she didn't want to exist anymore. she wanted nothingness.

"lady meera?" asked sansa as she opened the door. the lady of winterfell found meera screaming as a blood dripped from her hands. meera felt sansa pull her from the chair to the bed. she poured the jug of water that sat by her bedside onto meera's hands, the pain only being enhanced. sansa began pulling the shards of glass from her hands as she shouted for a maester. "please be alright, please be alright." meera lost herself in the darkness, and for once she was content.

 

when meera woke up it was dark. sansa sat by her bed, a needle in hand and a dark quilt across her lap. "oh good, you're awake." smiled sansa as she pulled meera up. "are you feeling better?" meera nodded, somewhat distraught from being ripped awake. "come on up, i'll get you ready for dinner." meera didn't speak, instead complying.

"i know you like to wear those pelts and coats, but i brought over some more...ladylike clothing." meera wanted to protest, but she couldn't conjure it within her. she allowed sansa to dress her in a dark green, thick dress. she sat meera down on the chair and brushed out her hair. i am alive, she wanted to say, but i should be dead. she noticed the mirror had been replaced and watched as sansa glided the brush through meera's mess of curls.

   "i'm sorry meera," sansa tied a necklace around meera's neck. "i'm sorry i brought you back to winterfell. i just...bran...i remember when he was a child. i remember watching him struggle to shoot an arrow. i remember him scoring down my lemon cakes and never wiping his mouth and then i'd have to use my handkerchief and i got so mad. i remember when he was just a young boy. now...now i don't know. i've missed so much. jon died and now he's king in the north. i remember jeyne poole and i used to sneer at him because he was a bastard, and look at him now. i don't even know what happened to jeyne poole. arya's a murderer who's lived in bravos and wears people's faces. theon saw what ramsay did to me. he experienced it himself. father's dead, mother's dead, robb's dead, rickon's dead. i just...i want bran back. i thought you could save him. you...you grew up with him. my reasons for bringing you down were entirely selfish. i didn't think how you would take it. i don't even know you, but bran does." she took a breath before smiling. "let's just go to dinner, shall we?" 

   sansa looped her arm through meera's and they walked in silence to the dining hall. meera remembered how her mother had once suggested fostering her to the starks. how would that have turned out? would she have been friends with sansa? would theon have killed her when he took over? would she have grown up not as meera, but as a highborn lady? she didn't want to think about that. when they reached the dining hall, sansa sat her between herself and bran. perhaps she meant it in goodwill, but meera felt extremely uncomfortable. the occupants of the dinner table were waiting for their king and queen, who walked in together in a most dramatic fashion. jon stay at the head, daenerys on his right and the moment meera laid eyes upon them she knew the two were more than just allies. it seemed most of the table knew this too, but none said anything.

   meera picked at her food, eating the soup in an attempt to be polite. there were a good few at the table. along with bran, sansa, arya, jon, daenerys, there was daenerys' advisor ser jorah mormont, a woman meera guessed was her handmaiden, a knight named davos seaworth and samwell tarly and gilly the wildling who meera remembered from the wall. she didn't know who the other dozen or so people were but they were on the other end of the long table so she gave no notice.

she felt a hand clasp hers under the table, and she looked up in surprise at bran. he leaned down to her ear. "are you alright meera?" he asked. she was too shocked to reply. was he truly inquiring after who? that was something bran stark would do, not the three eyed raven. she nodded, twisting her fingers around the charm on the necklace sansa had given her. it was a lizard-lion, the heraldry of her house. she instantly felt a sense of contentment flow through her veins and she smiled.

 

   when dinner was over, meera walked through the halls. "when will you tell him?" asked an urgent though quiet voice. meera's curiosity got the better of her and she slid around the corner. two dimly-lit figures stood at the end of the darkened walkway.

   "i don't know. i don't know how i could tell him." bran.

   "we need to. i...i...heard....them last night. they need to know. jon needs to know." the voice was samwell tarly's, further evidenced by his large shadow.

   "i know. i saw them. jon will be crushed, but it is necessary. he is-" she didn't catch the end of his sentence.

   "i know, i know. people...people have noticed. them, that is. they're going to talk. they're going to get angry. they're going to be disgusted."

   "they are merely carrying on the family tradition." it sounded as if bran were making a joke, which was impossible. "i...i need to talk to meera." her blood ran cold.

   "meera reed? does she know?"

   "no, but her-" again, bran's voice grew too low for her to hear. "i need to talk to her. give me a few days, samwell."

   "fine. but...this is dangerous."

   "what isn't?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rickon stark wins the award for most forgotten stark


	10. gods and ghosts

   what did they mean? what was jon? why did bran need to talk to her? was samwell tarly trustworthy? she near sprinted to her room, collapsing on the bed. the dress she wore began to constrict, like snakes wrapping around her body. she ripped it off, exchanging it for a more comfortable wear. she wasn't sansa. she did not fit ladies' garbs. everything seemed to be suffocating her. te necklace, the dress, the room. she needed out. she grabbed her bow and arrows and headed out for the godswood.

    greywater watch had a godswood. it was within the walls of the keep, in the very middle, and what those who saw it called a miracle. it was small, several dozen trees at most. they were encased by four walls, though there was no ceiling. it was said greywater watch had grown from it. 

   the winterfell godswood was far larger. it was a stranger to her, with its snow and sadness. there were ghosts here, along with gods. she eyed a snow shrike on the branch of one of the trees and she aimed, before lowering. it was innocent. it was too small to eat and had done nothing to harm her. 

   "meera." said a voice. bran was sitting several feet away beside the heart tree. she jumped and the snow shrike flew away.

   "bran. i didn't see you there."

   he smiled. "evidently." she didn't understand what was going on. he had made a joke. the three eyed raven didn't make jokes. he reverted back to his blank face and turned to the tree. "meera...i wasn't warging. the three-eyed-raven pulled me. he pulled me into the dream. i was stuck. it was excruciating, meera, because i was bran. i wasn't the raven anymore. i was back to being bran. i saw so many things and i saw them as bran. i saw my father in his cell. i saw his thoughts as ilyn payne ripped his life from him. i saw mother as she too died and i saw her a thousand years ago as she watched over my crippled body. i saw robb give up as his wife and child were murdered. i saw arya alone in the world. i saw sansa with ramsey. i saw rickon's last breath."

   he took a breath before continuing. "i saw this all as bran. i saw...everything. meera, i'll never be able to repay hodor or osha or summer or jojen. i failed them. i know you think you failed them, i've seen that too. you didn't fail them. br...i did. meera...i'll never be able to give back what you gave me. i'll never give back the years of friendship and love and loyalty and strength. i'm sorry for that. but meera...i've seen. i don't know how to say that any other way. i'm the three-eyed-raven...but i'm bran too. i'll always be bran. even if i grow into a tree and live in cave for a thousand years. i'll always be bran. to sansa, to jon, to arya, to you."

   meera didn't know what to say. this is what she'd wanted, for bran to return. for everything to go back to how it used to be, but now that it was happening what was she to say? "oh."

   "i'm sorry to burden you with this." he turned to her. "i'm sorry for being so cold and curt with you when you left. i know it hurt you. i shouldn't have done that."

   she narrowed her eyes. "you shouldn't have."

   he looked down at his feet before turning back to her. "the reason i let you go without protest was because i needed you to talk to your father."

   "let me go? as if i were a caged bird?" that was petty, she knew. she couldn't help it though.

   he winced slightly. "that was a bad choice of wording. forgive me." she did, almost instantly, but she'd never admit that. "your father, he was there. he would have been able to stand behind what i said and vouch for me. after his de..." he closed his mouth and eyes, taking a breath. "i'm sorry for your loss, meera. he was a good man." he turned back to the tree. he didn't say anything for a while, instead sitting silently on his chair staring into the weirwood. when she looked at him, he wasn't bran. he was a million minds, trapped within a hurricane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48989/caged-bird


	11. the three eyed raven

    _none of it matters, meera_ , a small voice wanted to say, _what matters is you_. he wanted to forget jon's heritage and the southern war and the night king and the army of the dead and the three-eyed raven. no. jon needs to hear the truth. argued another, much more prominent voice, and again he was the three-eyed-raven. but meera needs to understand me, and i need to understand meera. the raven could hear bran stark as clear as day, but the raven felt himself shut out the voice. this is too important.

   he looked back to her. for a moment, he was bran again. for a moment he saw not through a thousand eyes but through just two. she was beautiful in the afternoon light, the setting sun casting a warm glow over her. she looked a princess, the snowflakes settling on her curly brown hair in the shape of a crown. her eyes glittered, two obsidian stones set in a statue of a woman. her lips were as red as a rose, and for a moment the sensation of wasting to kiss her was all he could think of. she looked so hurt, and for a moment he felt crushed. he had caused this despair. he had destroyed her.

   but it was just a moment. when it passed, he saw only a girl he used to care for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) or :-)


	12. the mother above

 

   "jon is the rightful heir to the iron throne." his voice conveyed no emotion, no feeling, no substance. he was so nonchalant that for a moment she thought this were a jape.

 

   "what?!" she hadn't expected that to be the secret about jon. he reached for her, his frail, pale fingers taking her hand like vines curling around a tree. he pressed their hands to the tree, and meera felt a profound warmth before being sliced into a hundred thousand versions of herself.

 

   when she opened her eyes, she was standing before a tall tower. bran stood beside her, stood, his hands held neatly behind his back. she cast her gaze to what he was watching and she nearly screamed out as she recognised one of the men. her father. he was much younger, healthier and though he appeared solemn he felt brighter.

 

"who are they?" she asked, turning to bran. it felt odd having to look up at him. though he was three years younger than she, the crannogmen had always been a short people. she gotten so used to him laying down or seated on his chair she was somewhat surprised by his height.

 

"the kingsgurdmen are ser gerold hightower and ser arthur dayne." the sword of the morning. her father had told her stories of his heroics. she'd never been a swordswoman herself, but she'd listened intently to his tales. "the northmen are lord willam dustin, ser mark rysell, ethan glover and martin cassel and...and my father and yours." she wanted to run to her father, to embrace him, to melt into his arms as he stroked her hair and told her and jojen stories of times past. bran seemed to see this, and clasped her hand. "i did to, when i saw my father." she wondered who was beside her. the three-eyed-raven, or bran?

 

she watched the battle unfold, and she could not help but stand in awe. this was interrupted by her father being stabbed and falling to the ground. bran gave her hand a comforting squeeze and she calmed down. this was not the day he'd die. she watched silently as eddard stark faced the legendary swordsmen. he was going to lose. he was a good fighter, but he was no match for ser arthur dayne. her father had never told her this story, and she found out why as she watched him rise and stab the knight through the back of his throat. it was a classic crannog move, but she could see eddard's honour shatter.

 

"i always believed my father beat and killed ser arthur, but he didn't. your father did." a scream from the tower prohibited her reply, and lord stark began to run up the steps. bran led her up, following his father. she realised she still held his hand and pulled it back quickly. if bran even noticed this, he did not show it.

 

a woman lay in a bed of blood. lord stark lay dayne's sword at the foot of the woman's bed, its former wielder's own blood drying at its blade. meera peered at the girl, and as she turned to bran she registered who it was. lyanna stark, eddard's sister. she looked like arya, though perhaps with less of a murderous glint in her eyes. meera could see her in bran too, before she realised who she reminded meera of. jon snow, the bastard of the north. she was in every one of his features.

 

meera didn't catch everything lyanna said, but she understood. "promise me, ned." and as the life drained out of her, meera shed a tear for this woman who'd done nothing but love the wrong man.

 

 

 

 

    "that is the truth." bran said as their hands fell from the tree. "jon snow is aegon targaryen, trueborn son of my aunt lyanna stark and the last dragon rhaegar targaryen. he's the heir to the iron throne and all that comes with it."

 

   she didn't know what to say. there was a long pause before she finally spoke. "what are you going to do?"

 

   the weirwood tree casts a shadow over bran. "tell him, i suppose. though...it is complicated. daenerys and jon...they're..." he closed his eyes, as if wincing at painful memories. "warming each other's beds."

 

   she'd guessed this, and she bore no doubt everyone in winterfell had too. "that does make it complicated." she sat down on the roots of the weirwood tree. "the northmen will never follow a targaryen. the way they'll see it, lord snow's an imposter who's bedding his aunt. they won't see him as eddard stark's, they'll see him as the son of the man who murdered their she-wolf."

 

   "jon is honourable and honest to a fault. if i tell him he'll feel a fraud and confess to the northern lords."

 

   "so what will you do?"

 

    "i don't know. it's exhausting. i should be focusing on the war-beyond-the-wall, but this is...this is my brother." bran locked his eyes with her's. "meera, i'm so confused."

 

   she rose to her knees and grabbed his hands. "who are you? who am i talking to? are you bran? are you the three-eyed-raven? are you the bloody _weirwood_?"

 

   "i don't know anymore."

 


	13. fall from grace

the small council meeting wasn't very small. the room was large enough to fit everyone but meera could feel the presence of every individual person. she stood in the corner beside bran and samwell. meera had never understood politics, so the words washed over her head.

"the five youngest - sorry, the five remaining sand snakes request safe passage to winterfell and legitimisation. sarella, elia, obella, dorea and loreza" started varys. she didn't trust him. "they've taken control of dorne with the support of most of the dornish houses and under the supervision of house gargelen, house uller, house dalt and house allyrion. the eldest, sarella, is the de facto ruler. she says she will bring food, wine and dornish soldiers."

"how many?" asked sansa. they were beginning to ration food, and another load of people would be difficult to house and feed.

"no one quite knows. the martells are very secretive about it." to meera, lord varys looked like an evil egg atop a bejeweled egg cup. "though at least forty-five thousand."

sansa opened her mouth in protest, but jon interrupted. "we need as many men as possible." he turned to daenerys, and meera winced. she could tell sam was as uncomfortable as she was. bran betrayed no emotion.

"we thought a good chunk of our army lost when cersei took ellaria, but this is better than what we were first given." daenerys said gravely. they spoke as one, this dragon queen and king in the north. 

   tyrion, the dwarf of the rock, spoke. "we must not forget they were able to kill rhaenys' meraxes in the conquest, and this was when dragons could cast a shadow over an entire village. they may be vital in defeating the night king's dragon." meera watched daenerys flinch at the prospect of killing the dragon, and she felt sorry for her. meera knew what loss felt like. then again, who in westeros didn't?

"that should take at least a month. we must ensure cersei will not ambush the dornish. armies are difficult to hide."

"the redwynes sent us a great many ships at the late lady olenna's request." suggested tyrion. the table all agreed, though meera felt uneasy. "we can split the army up. some will go by sea through white harbour, some will go by road and head north through the twins. now that edmure tully has been freed from that nightmare of a castle, they should be able to move relatively freely trough the riverlands. how we will traverse the reach-"

she jumped back as someone knocked on the door. jorah mormont opened the door to brienne of tarth, the tall lady meera had seen in and around winterfell. "my lords, my ladies. jaime lannister is at the gates of winterfell."

 

   she pushed bran's chair through the castle towards the gates. guards held the man, and meera couldn't help but feel underwhelmed. she'd heard stories of the mighty ser jaime lannister, how he'd murdered the king and slain thousands. how the sword was an extension of his arm and how he was as beautiful as his sister. she did not see any of this in him.

   he did not look mighty as the two guards gripped him. he did not look like a kingslayer. he did not look like he had slain thousands. his sword hung loosely from his side, and his gold hand looked like a heavy burden rather than a show of lannister wealth and strength. he did not look very beautiful, with his face caked in dirt, mud, sweat and blood. meera'd never seen cersei, thank the gods, so she did not know if they compared well. all in all he could pass for a peasant with a funny looking hand.

"let the kingslayer go." commanded sansa. the guards obeyed, and meera was impressed and a little jealous. no one would ever listen to her the way they listened to sansa.

bran turned around in his chair. "i need to leave." he stated. there was a strange, strained emotion in his voice that was confusing.

"do you wish for me to fetch the maester?"

"no. no, i need to go to the godswood." it seemed to meera that he lived there now. she pushed the chair away, ignoring the stares. she placed his chair by the heart tree before slumping down at its roots.

"is something wrong bran?" she finally asked. he had a strange look in his eyes, melancholy and sad. he didn't reply, instead taking her hand and placing it on the weirwood tree. 

though she tried to prepare herself for the feeling of being ripped apart, she couldn't stop it. bran held her hand as she keeled over. he helped her up and as her sight returned, she shut her eyes. she knew what was happening, but she didn't want to see it.

"are you alright?" bran asked. she nodded and opened her eyes slowly. sex was taboo, and never spoken about openly. her mother had told her it was romantic, that it brought forth the miracle of childbirth. the septa of house greengood who sometimes rode up to greywater watch with the greengood noblemen once said it was a methodical act between man and wife. she remembered how the nights watch mutineers had nearly had their way with her and how frightened and utterly hopeless she'd felt. so that was three impressions of the act, but none of them where what was happening.

cersei and jaime were still clothed, with cersei's skirts hitched up. it looked messy and chaotic. meera wanted to cover her ears and eyes and also fling herself from the window. "i'm sorry you have to see this, but there is a point to me showing it." his face betrayed no emotion, which made meera even more uncomfortable. bran turned slightly, and she followed his gaze to the window. she realised why he was doing this when she saw the boy's face.

it was bran. younger, maybe nine or ten. he was watching in confusion and a child-like fascination. he must have climbed up the tower, and meera realised why bran was showing her this. young bran's legs were functional. "stop, stop!" cried cersei as she noticed the boy. 

jaime stood up, and pulled bran to the ledge. "are you completely mad?" meera knew what was coming. she wanted to save the boy but her own bran held her hand, probably to stop her from rushing to his younger self.

"he saw us," meera gripped her bran's hand tighter, for if she let go she didn't know what she'd do. "he saw us!" repeated cersei.

"i heard you the first time," meera heard summer's muffled barks from below, and her heartstrings tugged. "quite the little climber, aren't you?" young bran did not answer. "how old are you boy?"

"ten." replied bran shakily. he sounded so different. he didn't sound like the bran meera knew.

"ten." repeated jaime. he let go, and for a second meera thought bran may get away. "the things i do for love." and then bran was flying.

 

"jaime lannister pushed you," she announced when they returned. "because you saw him with his sister."

"yes."

meera grew angry. "jaime lannister is a monster. a vicious monster with shit for honour." perhaps it was hypocritical of her to say. she was crannog after all, and the crannogmen were famed for their rather dishonest tactics, but she was also a northerner, and northerners knew honour. "he deserves the same fate." she began to storm off, but bran grabbed her arm

"meera, no. without ser jaime i would never have become the three-eyed-raven," exactly , she wanted to say. "and he is a cripple now, just as i am." it was as if he were convincing himself as much as her.

"he killed you, bran. he is to blame for so much. his actions...your parents could still be alive. he took them away from you, just as he took away your legs."

"there is no one person to blame for my parent's deaths but human nature." she wanted to slap him, to knock sense into him, but she didn't. instead she walked away, leaving bran alone by the weirwood.


	14. justice

meera adjusted the collar of her dress. she hated it, but she wore it for sansa's sake. it was tradition after all, and she'd be wearing a thick cloak anyway. the dress was dark green, almost a muddy brown, with a high collar and long sleeves. it constricted her, though she was glad she didn't have to wear a corset or girdle. she'd have thrown herself into the night king's army via trebuchet before she did that.

a knock at the door prompted her to jump. "come in." she said as she composed herself. she expected it to be sansa, but instead it was bran.

"you...you look very nice." he said, his voice as monotonous as always. she felt suddenly self-conscious, as though he saw a version of her she couldn't see. was this bran talking, or the raven? did it matter to her? did it matter at all?

"i hate it." she said finally as she pulled on the fur cloak, adjusting the lizard-lion clasp. she might have attempted to brush out her hair, but she felt awkward doing that in front of bran. bran pushed the wheels of his chair, and situated himself by the bed where she sat. he was taller than her, even in his wheelchair.

"please do not mention what i showed you to the lords, and especially not to sansa." there was a sense of pleading in his voice, as if bran were pushing his way through a thick cloud of ravens to speak to her.

"he must face justice. you owe me, bran. you said so yourself. he deserves nothing but punishment for his actions."

"meera, i owe you my life, a thousand times over. i owe you more than the world could give, but please meera. he...he must live, and if you tell sansa what you saw she will have him killed without a second thought. arya will thread her needle through his neck and the world will fall." he has seen this, she realised.

"bran...he ruined your life. you could have lived. your mother would never have left winterfell, your father would never have died, your brother would never have had to fight. you would have become a knight, like you always wanted. you would have married a pretty highborn lady and could have borne children. he stole that from you." she did not realise she'd started to cry until he stretched his arm out and wiped away a tear. electricity shocked her when his fingers touched her cheek, and she blushed, turning away.

"i'd never have gone north. you'd never have had to protect me. jojen would not have died. hodor and summer would never have died. perhaps rickon and osha would never have died. jon would never be aegon." he took a breath. "i know that, meera. but it happened. they all died, and we lived. maybe it would have gone differently had ser jaime not pushed me, but it does not do well to dwell on what the past could have given us." he stared into her eyes. "meera, please. he must not die."

she wiped her eyes. "bran...i...i wish it had been me who had died."

he reached for her hand. "i'm glad it wasn't." he was bran, her bran. she wanted to believe he was telling this from the heart, but a nagging feeling told her he was just the three-eyed-raven singing a song.

 

"ser jaime lannister, heir to casterly rock, son of lord tywin lannister and lady joanna lannister, brother to the false queen cersei-"

"are you going to list my relation to every member of house lannister?" he smiled, and meera narrowed her eyes. this man has as much shame as he does honour.

"do not jape, ser, or mayhaps i shall call for the shackles back." the lords all looked down at jaime with pure rage. "you stand accused of treason. you allowed two your bastards born of incest and adultery, under the guise of being a true born baratheon heirs, to be crowned king. how do you plead?"

   the kingslayer winced. "that was cersei's doing-"

   sansa glared. "do you deny that you did not attempt to place a rightful heir on the throne?"

   he closed his eyes. "i do not deny." a raucous of uprage was unleashed, silenced by jon banging his longsword against the hard floors.

   sansa continued. "you stand accused for the red wedding-" the kingslayer opened his mouth in protest, but sansa held up a hand and a guard placed a gag in his mouth. "-and the subsequent murders of lady catelyn stark, king robb stark, queen talisa stark, lord gregor forrester, lord robin flint, lady dacey mormont, ser wendel mander-"

   lord manderly turned to sansa, half in anger and half in grief. "while we appreciate the thoroughness, lady stark, i'm sure many of us wish not to be reminded of our losses but for justice to prevail."

   "of course, lord manderly." sansa turned her icy eyes back to the lannister.

   "i had no part in those murders, my lady. that falls to my father, the boltons and the freys."

   sansa's face did not betray any reaction. "and lastly, you stand accused of the murder of king aerys targaryen." these words were not sansa's, nor any of the northern lords. it was not the murder itself that the northerners despised. it te the destruction of honour, the oathbreaking. these words were daenerys' or jon's. meera didn't know which was worse.

   the kingslayer looked genuinely confused, though mainly exasperated and frustrated. "king robert baratheon pardoned-"

   daenerys interrupted him.  "a man who tried to kill my brother and i - mere children - for the fault of being born to targaryens. a whoremongering, war-hungry beast." she could see the lords turn their heads slightly. they did not agree with this foreign targaryen queen, but none would risk the wrath of the starks.

   "i will get no fair trial here." the kingslayer spat. "you have all already deemed me guilty.  i demand a trial by combat."


	15. kingslayer

   "lady stark. i wish to see the kingslayer." 

   "lady stark?" sansa raised an eyebrow and smiled, but abandoned the informality when she saw meera's expression. "what do you wish to do with ser jaime?" he does not deserve to be a knight, she thought. they had no knights in the north, for knights were of the new gods, but meera knew what the represented. they represented honour and justice, neither of which the kingslayer held.

"to speak with him." she nearly said _it _, but caught herself before it slipped. the kingslayer was a mere creature. to throw a child from a window...what man did such a thing?__

__sansa eyed the dagger that hung by meera's side. "no weapons." meera handed sansa the dagger, slightly miffed. she wouldn't have killed him, bran had made her promise not to, but she'd be lying is she said she hadn't thought of maiming him. perhaps paralyse his legs, just as he'd done to bran._ _

__sansa sighed. "he's in-"_ _

__"i know where he is." she interrupted, perhaps a little harshly. she left the room hastily, descending to the dungeons. There was a row of cells, perhaps twenty of each side of the hall. the kingslayer's cell was at the far end. where guards should stand, bran sat. meera narrowed her eyes, before hiding behind the corner._ _

__"it is your duty." said bran, his voice even more stilted than normal._ _

__"is there no other way?" croaked the kingslayer. he sounded defeated, broken, like a man who'd given up._ _

__"no. it must be you. the valonqar."_ _

__"little brother." whispered the kingslayer. the rest of their conversation was muffled by the sound of her heartbeats. and so she stood quietly, both patient and massively not so. she jumped as bran stopped his chair in front of her._ _

__"i'm sorry." he said, his voice cracking on the last syllable. he left, and meera stormed to the kingslayer's cell._ _

__"another visitor. the gods bless me." meera dropped herself ungracfully on the bench outside his cell._ _

__"do you know who i am?"_ _

__he narrowed his eyes in curiosity. "short, northern, not too comely, no offence intended, lizard-lion brooch. you're a crannog of the neck. what, marsh? peat? no, reed." he smiled. "howland reed's daughter. bran was just talking about you."_ _

__"don't say his name." she hissed. his face fell slightly._ _

__"you know too." he closed his eyes. "i'm sorry. truly."_ _

__meera could almost feel her face turning red with anger. "sorry? you're sorry? you're sorry that you destroyed house stark? you're sorry that you ripped away bran's happiness? you're sorry that you took away bran's life? he was a boy. a boy, kingslayer. a boy who just wanted to climb and be merry. and you took that from him. he will never be able to live like he could have. he will never climb another tower, or race around winterfell. you took away his childhood, kingslayer."_ _

__"yes, lady meera reed. i am sorry. i am sorry that i was stupid. i am sorry i was blind in my love. i am sorry i ever did that to brandon stark. if i could take back anything it would be that."_ _

__there was a brief silence. "i should stab you in the spine so you can truly feel what you've done to bran. and cut off  your other hand."_ _

__"we have spoken but seven sentences and you're already threatening attack. it is a talent i hold, angering women."_ _

__meera glowered. "i am not threatening attack. i am wishing i could. you should thank bran i haven't sliced your neck."_ _

__"you love the boy, don't you?"_ _

__"is this your way of catching me off guard? you've failed, kingslayer. of course i love him. he is everything to me. he is all i have. my brother died for him. i died for him. i love him with all my heart and more and you-" her voice cracked. "-you took away everything from him." for a moment their eyes met, and meera saw her pain mirrored in his._ _

__"i'm sorry, lady meera reed. i'm sorry for what i did to bran. it was unforgivable."_ _

__meera stood up. she could take this no longer. "the neck is the southernmost region of the neck - two of house reed's minor vassal houses are technically in the riverlands - but we are quintessential northmen. we pray exclusively to the old gods, we keep no sept at greywater watch. we bow to the starks and the starks alone. we fight for the southerners only when the starks command us to. we do not dream of crowns. we do not dream of thrones. we dream of wolves and loyalty. but you...you are as southern as one can be. you have no honour in you. you have no loyalty beside that of the lust for your sister. you lions prowl the rock and the crownlands, seeing only the crown and the throne and power and your own disgraceful ambition. you may have killed aerys to save king's landing, you may have done the whole kingdom a favour in doing so, but you are as terrible as they come and i will never see you in any other light."_ _

__"i'm sorry." he repeated, sounding half-dead._ _

__"whether you fight or whether a champion fights for you; i hope you die."_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> born amidst salt and smoke? is he a ham?


	16. the winds of winter

"lady brienne has declared herself the kingslayer's champion, and she got the hound to be ours." whispered arya. "i think that's why sansa's called this meeting." 

"he's guilty." was all meera said, before sansa stood up and the room hushed.

"my lords." started jon, before turning to where lyanna mormont and alys karstark sat. "my ladies. the night king's army is growing and it is coming. we cannot waste time on such petty issues as southron politics, so i - and lady sansa - believe we should call off the kingslayer's trial and execution or pardoning until the war is won."

there was an uproar, silenced by sansa raising her hand. "when the winds of winter descend, what will the conviction of one man do for us? when the long night descends and your children are starving and freezing, what will the kingslayer's death give us? comfort? comfort is not the way of the north. survival is. we must survive this war and this winter, and jaime lannister's fate will not feed us or warm us. the red wedding took our families. the north remembers. we will fight for our vengeance against those who have wronged us, but at present the war beyond the wall is our only priority." no one spoke, and the silence was deafening.

 

meera wrenched open bran's door. "what did you do?"

"meera, i know how you hate ser jaime, but it's not important right now. that's why i told sansa what ser jaime needs to do. he must be the one to kill cersei. sansa has sent him to king's landing with lady brienne and an entourage of stark guards. the war will never be won with cersei living. nothing is more important with the war beyond the wall. nothing, meera. not you, not me, not anyone. why do you think i haven't told jon of his mother and father? because the war must be won and we can't have distractions. meera, do not speak to me about this again." his voice was so fueled that for once meera was speechless.


	17. a thousand minds and one

   stop! screamed bran, yet with all his voices not one listened. "nothing is more important than the war beyond the wall, meera." no! he screamed again, helpless amongst all his chaos. the three eyed raven kept talking. "why do you think i haven't told jon of his mother and father? because the war must be won and we can't have distractions. do not speak to me about this again." he could see tears swelling in meera's eyes. her only crime was that she cared for bran, and she was being punished. 

   "bran..." her voice cracked, and so did bran. the three eyes raven opened his mouth to talk, but bran pulled together all the power and might he could muster and took back control. he could see meera now. not just witness her, but truly see her. she was a broken child, a girl forced to become a woman too fast. he wanted to hold her, to fix her, to tell her everything would be alright. that they would win this, that they would live, that they wouldn't die, but he couldn't. he felt himself rip into a thousand pieces, and he scrambled for reality. he failed, and was pulled into the visions he'd tried to hard to hide from.

   he watched his father's head roll down the steps of the great sept, his blood dripping from a mighty yet terrible sword. he watched in in excruciating detail. he heard his father's last words, a prayer, amplified a thousand times inside his feeble mind. even on his last moments, eddard stark had prayed to the gods for his family. that his lady cat and his children would survive. but they didn't. he watched as lothar frey stabbed talisa maegyr over and over and over again. he felt the life drain from her unborn child, bran's nephew. he watched as roose bolton's dagger pierced robb's heart. he watched his beloved brother fall to the ground dead. he watched as his mother, his loving, kind, selfless mother scream and wail, before finally being silenced by black walder's blade. he watched rickon, his little brother, run helplessly from ramsey snow. he watched little rickon fall and die, his last thoughts a memory of his mother cradling him and singing a lullaby.

   and meera...he watched as she took pain after pain for him. he saw her fear and helplessness in craster's keep, and how in her mind her biggest fear had been bran and jojen having to watch her rape. he saw her trek through mud and blood and snow all for him. he saw her anguish and agony as she slit jojen's throat. he watched her cry as they ran from the white walkers, how even when she gave up her first thought was protecting him. he watched her heart break as he pushed her away with no more than a 'thank you'. 

   "bran!" her voice rippled from the darkness. he felt himself being ripped by wolves, his desiccated carcass being thrown about by lady and grey wind and shaggydog and summer and nymeria and ghost. "bran!" she screamed, her voice mutilating him just as hard as the weapons that had killed his family.

   "meera..." he whispered. her face brought him back to reality. her eyes, her brown curls, her shell-pink lips. he sank out of his chair, desperate to reach her. he saw her die a thousand times over, beheaded and covered in arrows and burned and stabbed and suddenly her brown eyes were ice blue and her warm hands were cold as snow. he didn't care though, he dragged himself towards her. he finally reached her, and she held him in her arms as she cried.

   "bran, are you alright?!" she pulled his face to hers. "tell me you're safe!"

   "none of us are safe." he gasped. he could feel the raven returning. he needed to speak fast. "meera, i'm so sorry. it's all my fault. jojen and summer and hodor are dead because of me, and osha and rickon too, and mother and robb and father, it's all my fault meera. i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i love you but i loved them and now they're dead and one day you'll die too and it'll be my fault." he didn't know how coherently his words came out, but he needed to say them.

   "bran, stop!" she half-sobbed, half-croaked. his world was spinning, and all he could do was try and hold meera. she was his rock, his life force, his home. 

 

   "i'm sorry for scaring you." he said. he stared intently at meera. if he looked away for even a second, the raven would take back over. "i need to talk to you. about everything."

   her eyes were still red from crying. "ok."

   "when...when i was stuck in my visions...i was bran again. the three-eyed-raven pulled me into the cave again and i saw everything. i saw father and mother and robb and rickon and jojen and summer and hodor die over and over again. i saw father's blood on his own sword, and mother's despair and robb's defeat and rickon's helplessness and jojen's shock and summer's fear and hodor's anguish...i watched it all. and i saw you too. i saw your shattered heart and how broken you were. it was agony, meera." she stood in the shadows, her face hidden by the darkness. 

   he wanted to stand up and face her properly, but he couldn't. he was barred by the raven, confined to his chair. he reached out to her, unsure if she truly was there. snowflakes settled on the window, and he thought of his family. his brother jon, who wasn't really his brother. his oldest sister sansa, always the princess, now the lady of winterfell. his sister arya, the little warrior wolf who was no longer a little girl but a skilled assassin. and meera...she was his family too. meera, who had lived through so much pain for him. she knelt down, and his hand reached her face. she was so beautiful, even while covered in cuts and bruises with snow clinging to her hair. she was his meera, his protector, and he'd failed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the fitnessgram paced test is a multistage aerobic capacity test that progressively gets more difficult as it continues. the twenty meter paced test will begin in thirty seconds. line up at the start. the running speed starts slowly, but gets faster each minute after you hear this signal
> 
> # ding
> 
> remember to run in a straight line, and run as long as possible. the second time you fail to complete a lap before the sound, your test is over. the test will begin on the word start. on your mark, get ready, start.


	18. the red woman

the dream was the first pleasant thing meera had experienced in months. they were sat under a weirwood on a grassy green hill eating lemoncakes and strawberry pie and peaches and dornish plums. hodor was licking a honeycomb, the sticky yellow substance dripping from his mouth. summer lay on the ground, a mass of fluff. rickon was sitting on one of the tree's branches, a peach in his hand. osha was goading him, but she was hiding a smile. meera's head lay on bran's lap, and a summer breeze brushed past them. jojen was petting summer, feeding the wolf little pieces of food. meera picked up a biscuit, admiring the delicate designs that adorned it. jojen stood up suddenly, and a raven flew down onto his arm.

everything went cold. in the place of honey, blood began to pour from hodor's mouth. his eyes where pale blue, his skin rotting. the food grew mouldy almost instantly, and before meera could even stand up seven arrows struck rickon. he fell from the tree, peach juice dripping from his frozen chin. osha's throat was sliced, but there was no blood. the flesh was black, and even from where meera stood she could feel the coldness that radiated of the wildling. hodor and jojen turned to her, but her brother wasn't jojen anymore. his nose and fingers and ears were black, the flesh decomposing off his body.

"you killed me, sweet sister." he croaked. rickon and osha began stalking towards her. "you slit my throat. why did you do that? we could have stayed in that cave. you and bran and hodor and summer and me. but you killed me, sweet sister. it hurt me so much. death pays for life, and i want to come back. you will take my place." she felt a knife slowly penetrate her back. the pain was excruciating, and meera pulled it out as quickly as she could. it was the sword she'd taken from the three-eyed-raven's cave, and it burned like fire. she turned to see who had tried to kill her, and saw bran. 

 

   she woke up screaming. if this were her old life, her mother would have ran to her room and hugged her till she calmed down, but meera felt only the frigid, biting air embrace her. bran had once told her that pipes full of boiling water ran through the walls of winterfell to warm the castle. it seemed they must have frozen solid, because all meera felt was the cold. light streamed through the window, though meera could not see the sun through the frosted window. she pulled on two cloaks, just in case. she doubted she would experience whether alike to beyond-the-wall as winter had only just came, but she had learned to be prepared.

the snowflakes came down haphazardly, in a way that meera thought looked like a goddess weeping from the heavens. what the goddess was weeping about, meera couldn't say. she trekked through the snow to the godswood, almost certain bran would be there. he was, and he sat on his chair by the heart tree. he didn't seem to notice her arrive, preoccupied with his vision. she placed on of her cloaks over his shoulders, hoping to bring some colour back to his cheeks. he came out of his vision, evidently a little frustrated though he smiled when he saw her.

   "meera." she could barely remember the last time she'd seen him smile. back in the cave, probably. "it's getting easier. distinguishing between myself. it's difficult to look for visions and to warg when i'm in a thousand places at once." was that a joke? she didn't know anymore. "i'm trying to find the night king but every time i get close, he closes me off. and that's when i get anywhere close at all. it's hard enough doing that. parts of me are looking into targaryens, parts of me watching the south, parts of me are...dwelling in the past. the three-eyed-raven...he used to be brynden rivers. which makes him jon's great-great-great-great-great-uncle. brynden rivers was one of aegon the unworthy's bastards, and he was the last targaryen to weird dark sister. daenerys is his aunt, that's for sure, but i think she's also his cousin. no, first cousin once removed. or something like that. and he's related to aemon the dragonknight! well, of course he is. and aemon, the maester at the wall that sam and jon talk about, he's his great-great uncle." for a moment, young bran seemed to be shining through, but he disappeared as quickly as he had appeared. "anyway, the night king is planning something. he's hiding something too...something big. jon told me about how craster the wildling sacrificed his infant sons. perhaps it's something to do with that?" he mused.

   "i don't like it. the night king's taking his time. it doesn't feel right." she shook off her doubts. "sansa called for a small council meeting. will you go?"

   "no." he said bluntly. "i need to stay here. you go though, please. tell them melisandre of asshai heads for winterfell and that she brings freed slave soldiers from essos along with kinvara of volantis, benerrelle of volantis and moqoresse of meereen." he turned back to the weirwood without another word. meera sighed, before heading to the small council chamber.

 

   "the sand snakes are arriving with the remaining dornish soldiers in a few days." started varys. "house florent look to your grace. cersei sent their lady florys to the black cells with qyburn after she spoke openly against her. with house florent now lord paramounts of the reach, they plan to send their armies to you. lord edmure will be riding up to winterfell with stark loyalists as well." 

   daenerys nodded. "good. even with ellaria and olenna dead we still have the reach and dorne. we have the riverlands, the vale and the iron islands as well. the stormlands are still warring each other, though stannis' army have sworn fealty to winterfell. cersei still holds the westerlands and the crownlands, though." she turned to meera. "anything to report?"

   "bran says a melisandre of asshai is heading to winterfell with freed slave soldiers and kinvara of volantis, benerrelle of volantis and moqoresse of meereen." this meant nothing to meera, but it caused several of the occupants of the table to speak.

   ser davos turned to jon. "do not let that woman here." 

   "the red woman?" whispered arya.

   "i know of kinvara. a red priestess." said tyrion.

   "we cannot trust her." announced varys.

   daenerys fumed. "one at a time!" she cried, as if she were talking to young children. "she brings soldiers. we will accept her. r'hllor is a fire god, no? fire is what we need."

   "you grace, the woman is a murderer. she...she burned a little girl, shireen baratheon at the stake." davos's eyes watered. "shireen was a sweet girl, and did nothing to deserve her fate. she was full of kindness, and her heart was good and pure, and the red witch killed her."

   jon narrowed his eyes. "i swore if she ever returned i'd hang her for murder." daenerys and jon had a brief unspoken conversation, causing daenerys to sigh.

   "we will accept the soldiers, and kinvara and benerra and moqorress. they haven't burned any children?" no one answered. "melisandre will be kept in cells until the war is over, when she will receive justice. is that clear?" what a time this is, thought meera. we are allied with child-burners. the door flung open, and meera jumped back. a woman in red stood at the door, smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> opinion: the dornish scenes are the best pars of AFFC. discuss.


	19. the moon was a crescent, thin and sharp as the blade of a knife

tyrion, varys, missandei, grey worm and daenerys recognised her. "i am called kinvara. i bring armies to fight the great other." she seemed to read davos and jon's minds, or had at least heard the end the conversation. "i do not bring melisandre of asshai. she is with us in our hearts, but the red god requires her duties elsewhere."

"duties? which child has her red god commanded her to burn?"

kinvara ignored ser davos' insult. "melisandre prays for your good health. the freed soldiers of r'hllor will reside outside your walls. we will not disturb you. we are yours." she bowed, and meera did not treat her one bit. the old gods will not like this.

"missandei, grey worm. accompany kinvara back and help her and the freed soldiers build camp." commanded daenerys. when the two left, she turned back to the table. "r'hllor is the fire god. this is a war against the winter. melisandre will still be held accountable for her crimes." meera had little idea as to the nature of anything that had just arisen, and so left after giving the appropriate leave. she headed to the godswood, something she found herself doing in abundance lately.

he sat there exactly he had been before, not a hair different. as he sat in the fading sunlight, she wandered how it might have been had the gods not so royally fucked everyone. had jon arryn not been poisoned, had bran not fallen, had eddard not died, had the white walkers truly been gone. 

robb would have married a good northern woman, one of manderly's daughters or a karstark girl. sansa would have married joffrey and been queen of the seven kingdoms, and perhaps it would have turned out well enough. arya would have run off and explored the world, meera had no doubt. rickon would have been given a little keep of his own, maybe married lyanna mormont, the she-bear of bear island. bran...meera didn't know. her mother had suggested a union of reed and stark more than once. now, meera wandered what would it have been like to have met bran as a husband, and not a boy to be protected. she might be lady meera stark. jojen would have married a nice girl from the neck. falena fenn, mayhaps. he would have been lord of greywater watch, with a wife to hold him and sons and daughters in his arms. but no, it was not to be. robb and rickon were dead, sansa had been married to a lannister and a bolton, arya was an executioner, jojen had been stolen from her and bran...he was in a state between man and bird.

she felt a chill shoot through her spine, as if she'd been stabbed by a sword. bran withdrew his hand from the tree at lightning speed, as if the tree had turned as hot as a fireplace iron. she grabbed his hands, and he looked up at with with wide eyes of fear. "they're coming."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really want jojen paste to be real but i don’t want meera to get knocked off. also florence + the machine released a new album i give a solid 7-8/10


	20. the blood of the dragon

   "the night king rides viserion." spoke bran, his voice layered with a strange urgency. "he is going to breach the wall with its flames, or he already has. i do not know, it's not clear. he is barring me-" the scream daenerys let out nearly broke meera's heart. perhaps the dragon queen had been responsible for her parents' deaths, perhaps she was a conquerer and a killer, but she was also a mother. jon grabbed her, stopping her from falling. 

   "how long do we have?" asked jon. he grasped daenerys as if she were his lifeline.

   "a few days, most like. a week if we're lucky. he is marching his army to the wall." he took a breath. "i'll send a raven to the watch, though i doubt they'll reach it in time." meera thought of the night's watchmen she'd met. they seemed like good people, people who did not deserve to die.

   they assembled a hasty meeting. meera felt as if the world had sped up, and she was just watching it fly by. she held bran's hand tightly. there was a part of her that feared what would happen if she let go. "we start riding. the dothraki will breach the lines first. daenerys will ride drogon, with rhaegal close behind. we must make sure the night king does not reach them. kinvara's soldiers will ride through and burn the bodies."

   tyrion nodded. "sarella sand and the dornish armies will arrive in a few hours. the tarly armies will not arrive in time. we will have to send word to lady talla not to stop her march-"

  samwell furrowed his brows. "you mean lord dickon." he does not know. it had been months, how had jon not told him? the room seemed to freeze, but daenerys turned to him.

   "i burned you father and brother. they would not kneel and i am sorry, truly. you and your sisters do not deserve the heartbreak-" 

   sam ignored her, and turned to his sworn brother, his best friend. "no...tell me it's not true."

   jon winced. "sam, i-"

   "she killed my father...but dickon...dickon was good. she killed my family because they would not bow to a murderous foreign conquerer, and you've been bedding her!" meera had never seen sam so angry. "bedding her own nephew...i should have expected nothing less." he turned to bran. "and i suppose you knew too. you knew what she did, and you swore my to secrecy." sam stormed out, leaving a room of eyes turned to bran and meera.

   "what-" daenerys' voice ripped trough the tension. "in all seven damned hells is he talking about?!" 

   meera opened her mouth, but bran spoke first. "jon is the trueborn son of aegon targaryen and lyanna stark. eddard hid him as a bastard to protect him from king robert." daenerys seemed to melt. the accusing eyes of the the room bore into bran, and meera stepped in front of him.

   "but that's not important right now." she said, her hand creeping towards her dagger. "what's important is the night king and his army of the dead. my brother didn't die for all of you to stop concentrating because jon isn't a bastard." perhaps it was a cheap blow to use her brother as such, but she could only think of bran. it made her feel guilty that she didn't feel guilty.

   the words seemed to abandon daenerys though. she turned to jon, her eyes full of hope. "i'm not alone."

   jon was struck silent and frozen. he seemed to listen to meera though, and shook his head. "we will discuss this later. lady reed is right, the white walkers are our priority."

   "the blood of the dragon..." whispered daenerys. "jon, you can ride rhaegal. named for your father, fit for a king." it seemed like the two were in their own realm of existence, separated from the rest of them. in a moment of apparent madness, she wondered if she and bran could ever have that kind of love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow that forced conflict sure was shoe-horned in


	21. a brutal sort of beauty

bran watched meera ready herself. she was preparing for the fight, with armour from the neck. it looked much freer than metal armour and was painted a deep mossy green. "stay in the crypts." she said, before opening up the dressing screen and turning his chair around. "i made the dragon queen swear to have you protected. you'll have an unsullied, one of the red priestess' soldiers and three northern soldiers." he could hear her getting undressed, and tried to block out his sight. seeing everything had its awkward moments.

"stay safe." he felt like himself, truly and absolutely. "for me." he heard her stop.

"of course, bran." when she was done, she turned his chair around. her hair was tied up, though stray curls had escaped her wrath. the armour fit her nicely, and she looked like a warrior woman. she was a brutal sort of beauty, and bran couldn't help but smile.

"you look nice."

she blushed, before sitting down and fiddling with her boots. "that doesn't matter."

"you look like you could survive the army of the dead."

she laughed. "better."

he hoped she would survive. "what will you weild?"

she picked up a quiver of arrows and her bow. "they tipped the arrows with dragonglass. and i'll have a dragonglass dagger." she stood and picked up the sword that sat in the corner of her room. "i took this from the three-eyed-raven's cave, when we were escaping. it's valyrian steel, that's easy enough to see." it was long and sharp, and fit her hands. she passed it to him, and he inspected it intensely. it was simply made, with a black hilt and silver pummel. he touched the edge with his finger, drawing blood, and he entered a vision. a warrior woman with long pale hair and deep purple eyes stood beside a man adorning a steel crown set with red rubies, gripping the sword tightly. she screamed, and blood ran down the blade.

"dark sister." he whispered. meera shot him a confused look, and he smiled. "it's dark sister. made for and wielded by visenya targaryen, the first queen of the seven kingdoms. it was lost when brynden rivers left for the night's watch. he must have taken it with him. he must have brought it to his cave..." he handed it back to her, and she held it now as if it were a priceless artefact. which it was, of course.

"i should give it to daenerys-"

he thought of meera dead in the snow. "no. no, take it with you. protect yourself. the white walkers are weakened by valyrian steel."

"i was never much of a swordsman. swordswoman." she seemed to see his expression, and she softened. "alright." she set it down on the bed and knelt down in front of him, taking his hands. "you'll promise me you won't do anything? no warging, no visions, no nothing." he looked down at his feet and nodded. he couldn't bear to look at her. "i'll come back. i promise. gods, i sound so patronising. i just...i'll...i promised to protect you, and how will i do that if i'm-" he heard her voice catch. dead. she'd nearly said it. "-gone?"

"please live." if he could beg, he would. "please."

   she turned away, but he could see her cheeks redden. "of course i will." she said finally. she took a breath, and looked back to him. she looked so beautiful, even in all her brokenness. she might die. it was always in the back of his mind. he didn't know what he'd do if she died. she was everything to him. without her, he would be the three-eyed-raven and nothing else. she made him bran, she kept him sane. jon's voice rang through the yard. she turned her head, before smiling sadly.

"i guess i have to go now." she said, though it sounded like she was trying to convince herself. "goodbye, bran." he closed the gap between them, without thinking. he'd never kissed someone before. she seemed surprised but she didn't pull away. she was soft and warm, and it was as if the all the snow in westeros had melted away. a part of him wanted more, to be able to hold her, to touch her, but he knew he never could. she finally broke the kiss, blushing furiously. "i'll be back. i promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dark sister better show up in TWOW or ADOS


	22. dark sister

meera watched the soldiers. she'd never seen so many people in one place. there had to be hundreds of thousands of them. stark, tully, arryn, tyrell, baratheon, martell, targaryen and lannister. for once, not fighting each other. daenerys rode drogon, ordering the assembled from the skies. jon rode his horse at the front, his direwolf beside him. the king in the north and the dragon queen seemed to be ignoring the new developments. bran had gone to them the night before and explained properly. there could be no distractions. 

   meera was distracted. it had been hours, yet she could still feel bran's phantom lips against her own. she shook her head, eager to remove those thoughts. 

   it was growing dark. it had been for a while, but they all knew they needed to reach the army of the dead before the army of the dead reached them. they set up a hasty camp. the campfire was small and meagre, but meera was grateful. she'd grown adjusted to the warmth of winterfell, and the cold was hitting her hard. arya sat beside her, sharping her dagger with a whetstone. she held it up to the moonlight. "i was never a fan of daggers. i prefer swords. thin ones, like needle. daggers make me feel like i'm wielding a brick. i brought this, though. it's the one littlefinger used when he betrayed my father. i feel...wrong...using it sometimes." meera didn't know what to say. 

"us crannogmen pride ourselves on daggers. they're our weapon of choice. my mother had one, though she swore it was ornamental. i never thought so, i'll never know now. my father wielded a green one, with a mossy wooden handle. i don't know what happened to it after the battle at the twins. my brother didn't though. he was never one for daggers or fighting. that was me."

"maester luwin told us that crannogmen were fearsome warriors, though dishonourable in some of your actions."

"yes, we use guerilla tactics. some say it's dishonourable, but we protect our kin with whatever means possible." how much had she done for jojen? how much had she did for bran?

"my father said he'd have died if it weren't for your father. he said you were more northern than the starks, in some aspects. my mother said you were frog-eaters." meera smiled at that. arya then pointed to meera's side. "that's a sword. valyrian steel." 

meera didn't know what to say. "i took it from the three-eyed-raven's cave, when we were escaping."

arya turned back to her whetstone. "bran's not the same as he used to be. i dont now if he ever will be. but...he says you made him realise he wasn't just the three-eyed-whatever. that he was bran too. thank you, for that."

   "oh. um, thanks." she turned back to the sword. in truth, she wanted nothing to do with it. it was a reminder of the three-eyed-raven, of brynden rivers, of bran's demise in that damn cave. she wanted to be as far away as possible from it as possible. 

   the steel still shined, even after three hundred years. it was daenerys' by rights. it was the last targaryen greatsword, and deserved a worthy wielder. daenerys' pavilion was a few paces over, but meera had no doubt the king in the north was with her and she was not about to walk in on whatever it was they were doing.

   she turned to arya. "i did not tell you the whole truth. this sword is dark sister, made for visenya targaryen. brynden rivers, the three-eyed-raven before bran, was the last known wielder. he took it to the night's watch, and to the ranging where he disappeared. i am no swordswoman, but you are arya."

   arya seemed taken aback. "visenya targaryen...she was my hero. sansa liked rhaenys, because she was sweet and kind, but visenya was a warrior." she took the sword from meera hands, careful not to cut herself. "i used to dream that i would ride dragonback with her sword. meera, are you sure?" meera nodded. she didn't want to touch it a moment longer. arya pulled something from her side. "take my dagger. it's valyrian steel as well, it'll kill white walkers. just in case."

   she took the blade in hand, sliding her finger across the edge. it drew blood, but she did not mind. the dagger felt right in her hands. it gave her a new sense of hope. she was going to live. she was going to get back to bran, no matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unpopular opinion: arya shouldn’t be heralded as this ‘awesome badass who can kill people yass slayyyyyyy queen of westeros’ like no???? she’s a young child who’s gone through so much trauma that she kills people without blinking an eye. that’s not cute, that’s not feminist, she shouldn’t be worshipped as this haha cute murder baby!!1!1 
> 
> rant over


	23. the raven's claws

the crypts were so cold that bran left the moment meera was out of sight. he knew she only wanted him safe, but he needed to stay out. and if anything did happen, his guards would have him down there quick. jon had made sure there was enough food in the crypts for a good few months, in case something went wrong and the occupants of winterfell needed to hide. 

even though it had been a few days, he could still feel her lips on his. he blushed every time he thought of the moment, which had been a lot. he wanted her back, here with him, safe from harm. he wanted to protect her, to love her as his father had loved his mother, but that would never be. he knew she loved him, he could see that plainly, but he wished she didn't. he was no good for her. he knew she wanted to explore, to journey through westeros. he would be a crippled burden she'd have to care for. and he was still the three-eyed-raven, no matter how hard he tried to get away from it. one day he'd have to go beyond the wall and live in a tree with nothing but rotting memories. one day he'd have to find some other poor child to become the raven.

could he find it in him to do it?

the snowflakes fell, and when the sunlight hit them they shined like falling stars. he wished meera was here to see them, though no doubt she'd seen enough snow to last her a lifetime. and there it was again. meera had sacrificed years for him, trekking through a frozen wasteland. for him. 

he couldn't think of that. the raven's claws dig into his eyes. no distractions. meera was a distraction. a beautiful, fearsome distraction. he placed his hand on the heart tree, and the world fell in on itself.

the snow fell so hard that it took bran a minute for his eyes to adjust.the army marched closer and closer to the wall. it was within sight now, a thin sliver on the horizon. something let out a great roar that bran had heard only a few times before. dragons. the night king rode viserion, commanding his army from the skies. not commanding, in the way a military leader would command an army, but like a god bending his subjects to his will. for one mad moment, bran thought about warging into the night king and have him fall from he sky. he'd tried before, warging into the white walkers, but it had never worked. it was as if they had their own wall, a barrier of protection, around them. 

   the vision changed. he was a raven now, perched in a snowy tree. he could see jon beside rhaegal, feeding the dragon a slab of raw meat. they were closer to the wall than the dead, thank the gods, but they had less soldiers than they'd begun with. it had only been a week, how could so many have perished? he knew the answer before he asked. most of the soldiers had never been north, some hadn't even seen snow. he could see arya beside daenerys, hesitantly stroking the scales of drogon. he flew closer towards them, and nearly fell from the sky. a familiar sword hung from her belt, glinting mockingly. the breath was knocked from his lungs. 

he searched the crowd, flying through the beating blizzard. she couldn't be dead. she couldn't be. how could he not know? he would have seen it, surely. and she was a fighter. she'd spent years in snow, she could handle it. when he finally spotted her sitting on a rock sharpening littlefinger's dagger he snapped out of his vision.

if he weren't sitting in his chair he'd have melted to the ground. his heart beat so hard in his chest it pained him. she wasn't dead. the raven dug his claws into him, twice as hard. meera was a distraction. he closed his eyes and turned back to the tree, delving into the frozen wasteland once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the books are better


	24. Chapter 24

 

**part one; meera**

 

when the wall fell, all hell broke loose. there was a queer beauty in it, this magnificent structure that had stood for millennia crumbling to shards of glittering ice. viserion was a sight to behold, glowing blue and white and black. meera didn't have to look around to see the frozen faces of her comrades. most had never seen a dragon till a few months ago, and here was one breathing blue flame ridden by a supernatural ice being who commanded an army of dead men.

 

daenerys sent the dothraki first, and they broke the lines of the dead. it was an orgy of death, and chaos rained down. any battle strategies jon and daenerys had planned were immediately forgotten, as every man ran into the fold. unsullied, night's watchmen, slave soldiers, northerners, southerners. the noise itself was so deafening meera could almost say it was silent.

 

she lost sight of arya nearly immediately, as the stark girl had gone off with her blacksmith friend. the dragons ravaged the army, daenerys on drogon and jon on rhaegal. meera had no time to care for what the others were doing. she promised bran she'd return, and she was a woman of her word. she'd equipped herself with a dragonglass dagger as well, but the dead weren't her focus. she needed to force her way through to the night's king and his men. it was they who had disturbed the dead, who had unleashed the terrors. it was they who had befallen the fate of death upon the children of the forest and summer and hodor and jojen. she had to duck as kinvara's freed slaves rode through the armies on ebony-black horses, setting the dead aflame.

 

the sound of steel hitting bone mingled with the screeches of the dead and the screams of the living. it was so surreal, as if time was as frozen as the wastelands and she were the only person experiencing time properly. she was slashing and stabbing everything in her path, searching for the white walkers. it was a sea of bones and rotting flesh, and there seemed not a single way out.

 

a burst of flame turned meera's eyes away from the battle. a woman donned in red with flames licking and lapping at her body parted the ways, and she stopped in the middle of the battle. the woman looked up to the skies nodding sadly to something before bursting into flame and drowning in its heat. the blast annihilated a good quarter of the army, leaving only confused and frightened soldiers standing still, slightly smouldering though still alive. an iron necklace wrought with a single glowing ruby lay in the middle of the impact, the only remaining part of the red woman.

 

the moment had been mesmerisingly beautiful, but meera's attention quickly snapped back to the army of the dead. they did not seem particularly phased by the recent events, and she was forced to return to reality. she stabbed a wight through its moulding eye socket, though she paused as she saw thought it's empty one. the red woman's fire had cut through the army like warm butter, and there was a weak spot. meera began running, running faster than her legs had ever run, her dagger reaching any target that tried to touch her.

 

and she was here. the white walkers themselves, mounted high on a snowy hill. the bound forwards, and when meera looked behind her she realised why. she was not the only person to have seen the weak spot. arya came running, dark sister grasped tightly in her hands, her blacksmith protecting her with a warhammer; brienne, the tall lady knight, rode forward on a bloodied and dirtied white horse; jon was flying down from rhaegal with longclaw in hand; fat sam tarly looked more courageous than meera had known a man to be, wielding a sword meera vaguely remembered bran calling heartsbane; daenerys' hand jorah mormont's eyes darted from daenerys to the white walkers.

 

meera did not have time to see the other fighters, as one of the white walkers charged towards her with a lance, sharp and shining in the light of the dragonflame. she'd never learned to fight with a lance, and she unfortunately had not a single one on her. as it grew closer and closer, she grabbed her dragonglass dagger and threw it straight through where it's heart should have been. the whistle of the blade was the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard, and the white walker exploded into a million shards of ice.

 

out of the corner of her eye, she saw arya stab her sword through the walker's horse's eyes, and it went straight though the horse's head into the walker's stomach. one of the walker's threw a spear straight towards jorah mormont just as jorah was turning his attention to it. meera grabbed her bow and arrow and sent an arrow through the walker's arm but it was too late. with one last look at his queen, the walker's spear shattered as it entered jorah's heart. she watched jon try to lose his sword, only for courageous sam tarly to save him and die protecting his brother.

 

her attention was snatched away by the night king turning towards her and the snowy hill. she could see viserion's mouth open, and an intense blue-white light began to glow.

 

 

**part two; bran**

 

he was growing anxious. the night king was deliberately closing him off. he'd watched helplessly as the wall fell, the dead set free from their icy prison. he couldn't see anything, couldn't see his family and he couldn't see meera. it was driving him mad. he could see only flashes of snow, ice, blood, rotting flesh, steel, fire and death.

 

   and then he saw everything. the red priestess, melisandre, erupted in a fiery explosion. the night king was distracted, and bran was able to see. for once he was truly grateful he was the three-eyed-raven. he kept eyes jon and daenerys and arya and most importantly meera. she was a madwoman. he knew she could fight, he'd seen it himself, but she was killing everything in her path. she paused, and he saw why. the red woman's explosion had caused a chink in the armour, and meera had spotted it. she ran so fast she knocked down the dead like they were nothing. he thought of warging into ghost, who was currently tearing the wights to shreds, but there was no need.

 

   he watched jon fly down on rhaegal, drowning three of the white walkers in rhaegal's fire, before he turned to fight two unhorsed white walkers at once. he watched samwell tarly die saving him, and bran sent prayers to the old gods for him. arya stabbed a horse through the eye, and he watched as jorah mormont drew his last breath, his dying thoughts being his beloved queen.

 

   but the the night king noticed the battles. he flew down on viserion, and bran knew the night king had felt his presence. he struggled to keep hold of his powers, to stay and try to help, but it was so painful. he could feel his heart straining. he thought of his father, of his mother, of robb, of rickon, of jojen, of hodor, of summer. he saw the dragon, his icy blue flames just beginning to show, and he thought of meera. he thought of her hair, of her eyes, of her smile, of her laugh, of her tears, of her phantom lips on his.  _this is not the day i die_. with his last breaths he warged into viserion.

 

 

**part three; meera**

 

   viserion's eyes rolled back in such an unmistakable way that meera nearly fell into the snow. no, no, no, she thought. not bran. he'd promised to stay safe, to keep out of the battle. viserion flew back up, against the night king's command. the night king seemed shocked, but he had no time to be. daenerys gained control of her two dragons and with a glisten that meera thought looked almost like tears, the targaryen queen bathed viserion and his rider in dragonflame. viserion, the great dragon, fell from the sky.

 

   meera could do nothing but scream. this had never happened to bran before. if his animal died while warging, would he die as well? the night king fell with an absurdly quiet landing. he was on fire, screaming in an ungodly fashion. jon strode over, holding both heartsbane and longclaw, and he stabbed the night king through the heart. the army of the dead and the remaining white walkers fell to ice and bones.

 

   the impact of viserion was deafening, and the ground shook. she ran over, bleeding and freezing and covered in dirt and snow. the beast was dead, and daenerys was crying as she embraced the head of her beloved dragon.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ


	25. home

when they finally arrived at winterfell, meera didn't know what to expect. she hoped, with every stupid part of her stupid heart, that bran was alive and safe. it was a fool's hope, she knew. she had seen the life drain from viserion.

   it was like the gods were laughing at her. it had snowed every day of the trek back, and her boots and clothes were all damp. she was chilled to the bone, and the thought of being with bran was no longer something that could keep her warm. there was a thick, tense emotional fog that had descended upon the living. they'd seen beings that in all truth should not exist, they'd watched their friends rise from the dead, they'd seen white walkers.

   it was not as if meera could say anything about what happened to bran. arya seemed to be in a state of shock, and she would only talk to her blacksmith friend. jon and daenerys were rarely seen at all, let alone apart, and she did not to want to impose on daenerys and jon's mourning. they'd both lost those dearest to them, and they didn't need more pain.

   as the towers and winterfell rose up from the horizon, a her sinking feelings of dread were mocked by the gods, who decided now was the perfect time to show the sun for the first time in weeks. she could see the blood-red leaves of the heart tree from where she stood, and she hastily wiped the tears from her eyes.

when the gates of winterfell opened, meera held her breath. he is dead, he is dead, he is dead. she tried to tell herself that hope was baseless. she knew to much of grief, had been visited by death too many times now. arya bounded over to her sister, and cried into the lady of winterfell's shoulder. jon joined the two, and meera wished she could see her own family again.

and then she saw him. he was in his wheelchair, his skin showing faint burn lines, but he was alive. she dropped everything she held and ran over to him, falling on her knees into the snow and she took his face in her hands and kissed him as if her life depended on it. he was so warm, and she didn't feel empty anymore. she didn't want to pull away, she wanted to stay in the moment for the rest of her life. 

   she finally pulled away. "are you alright?" she asked, as she skimmed her fingers across the light burns that scattered across his face.

   "i'll be fine. i left viserion just before he fell, so i didn't have to experience that again. maester wolkan says i'll have to stay in bed for a few days just in case though." she did not realise she was crying until he deftly brushed away her tears.

   "i thought you died." she whispered, her voice cracking.

   he looked up at her with sad eyes. "i'm sorry." 

   she wiped away her tears and smiled. "i told you to stay in the crypts. i told you to stay safe. you didn't listen to me."

   "how could i, meera?" she had not realised the others watching them, and stepped backwards from him with an awkward cough. he took her hand, not noticing or caring the eyes that watched them curiously. "thank you for coming back to me."

   "i promised you, didn't i?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yes, i kept him alive, i did a happy ending. sue me i like happiness, can’t be an edgelord forever. honestly, thematically, i think him dying and becoming the three eyed crow would be better but like...i’ll leave that to george.


	26. Chapter 26

the history books would say that lady meera reed of greywater watch never married. this wasn't true, but the southron maesters who penned history did not care to find out that the wolf had wed the lizard-lion at the winterfell heart tree in a small ceremony with lady sansa stark, lady arya baratheon, king aegon iv targaryen and queen daenerys i targaryen. 

the history books would say that lady meera reed of greywater watch had four children of mysterious paternal parentage. the first had been born ten months after the battle beyond the wall. a healthy boy, with dark brown hair and mossy-green eyes. when lady meera first brought the young jojen to greywater watch, rumours had flown like an unkindness of ravens. lady meera had put an end to the rumours, saying her child was a trueborn reed and that by the rights of the land greywater watch would be his at her death. the lord's of the neck had been forced to succumb after her claims were solidified by king jon sending a royal decree.

the second time lady meera fell pregnant, she brought twins. jyana and howland, named for her parents. by now most of the lords had guessed who the father was. it was common knowledge that meera reed had aided bran stark in his quest to become the three-eyed-raven, and surely it was no coincidence that the children were born after lengthy visits north to winterfell. the fourth child, a girl lady meera had named summer, near confirmed their beliefs, with her dark auburn hair, and eyes as grey as a wolf.

the history books say that lady meera reed of greywater watch was an unremarkable woman, but the ravens speak otherwise.

 

❅ ❅ ❅

 

HOUSE REED

MEERA REED, Lady of Greywater Watch, Lady Paramount of the Neck  
   - her husband, BRANDON, called Bran, the three-eyed-raven  
   - their children:  
      - her eldest son, JOJEN, heir to Greywater Watch, gifted with greensight, born 306 AC  
      - her eldest daughter, JYANA, twin to Howland, fostered at Winterfell, born 310 AC  
      - her youngest son, HOWLAND, twin to Jyana, fostered at Winterfell, born 310 AC  
      - her youngest daughter, SUMMER, a warg, born 317 AC  
   - her family:  
      - her only brother, [JOJEN], mercy killed by his sister   
      - her father, [LORD HOWLAND], died in battle at the Twins  
      - her mother, [LADY JYANA], of House Fenn, committed suicide

 

HOUSE STARK

SANSA STARK, Lady of Winterfell, Wardeness of the North, Lady Paramount of the North  
   - her husband, LORD TYRION, of House Lannister  
   - their children:  
      - JAIME LANNISTER, her oldest son, heir to Casterly Rock, born 309 AC  
      - JOANNA LANNISTER, her eldest daughter, fostered at Sunspear, born 311 AC  
      - EDDARD STARK, her second son, heir to Winterfell, born 313 AC  
      - ROBB STARK, her third son, fostered at the Eyrie, born 314 AC  
      - RICKON STARK, her youngest son, fostered at Storm's End, born 317 AC  
      - CATELYN STARK, her youngest daughter, fostered at Riverrun, born 320 AC  
   - her siblings:  
      - her elder brother, [KING ROBB], called the Young Wolf, former Lord of Winterfell and former King in the North, stabbed by Roose Bolton during the Red Wedding  
         - his wife, [QUEEN TALISA], of House Maegyr of Volantis, stabbed by Lothar Frey during the Red Wedding  
      - her younger sister, LADY ARYA, Lady of Storm's End  
         - her husband, LORD GENDRY, of House Baratheon  
            - their daughter, NYMERIA, heir to Storm's End  
      - her younger brother, BRANDON, called Bran, the three-eyed-raven  
         - his wife, LADY MEERA, Lady of Greywater Watch  
            - their eldest son, JOJEN, heir to Greywater Watch, gifted with greensight, born 306 AC  
            - their eldest daughter, JYANA, twin to Howland, fostered at Winterfell, born 310 AC  
            - their youngest son, HOWLAND, twin to Jyana, fostered at Winterfell, born 310 AC  
            - their youngest daughter, SUMMER, a warg, born 317 AC  
      - her youngest brother, [RICKON], shot with arrows by Ramsey Bolton  
   - her parents:  
      - [LORD EDDARD], called Ned, former Lord of Winterfell, former Warden of the North and Hand of the King to King Robert I Baratheon, beheaded by Ser Ilyn Payne    
      - [LADY CATELYN], called Cat, former Lady of Winterfell, throat slit by Walder Rivers during the Red Wedding  
   - her extended family:  
      - her uncle, [BRANDON], strangled by orders of Aerys Targaryen  
      - her aunt, [LADY LYANNA], died in childbed  
         - her husband, [PRINCE RHAEGAR], of House Targaryen, killed by Robert Baratheon  
            - their son, KING AEGON, called Jon, raised as the bastard son of Eddard Stark  
               - his wife, QUEEN DAENERYS, of House Targaryen  
      - her uncle [BENJEN], a brother of the Night's Watch, died beyond the Wall  
      - her aunt, [LADY LYSA], pushed through the Moon Door by Petyr Baelish  
         - her husband, [LORD JON], of House Arryn, poisoned by Lysa Arryn  
            - their son, LORD ROBIN, Lord of the Eyrie  
      - her uncle, LORD EDMURE, Lord of Riverrun  
         - his wife, LADY ROSLIN, of House Frey  
            - their elder son, HOSTER, heir to Riverrun  
            - their elder daughter, CATELYN, fostered at Raventree Hall  
            - their younger son, BRYNDEN, heir to Harrenhal  
            - their second daughter, MINISA, fostered at Stone Hedge  
      - her paternal grandfather, [LORD RICKARD], burned to death by order of Aerys Targaryen  
      - her paternal grandmother, [LADY LYARRA], died in childbed  
      - her maternal grandfather, [LORD HOSTER], died an old man  
      - her maternal grandmother, [LADY MINISA], died in childbed  
      - her great-uncle, [SER BRYNDEN], called the Blackfish, died at Riverrun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay!


End file.
